Passion's Price. Gwynne Forster

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      “I’m glad you’re a detective. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

      He stroked her arm. “Sure you would have. You were mine from the day you were born.”

      Darlene rimmed her lips with the tip of her tongue, looked at his mouth and then slowly raised her gaze to meet his. “Oh, really?” she said seductively, all the while moving her mouth closer to his. “I never said I was yours.”

      He pulled her into his arms. “You didn’t have to. Actions speak louder than words ever will.”

      Before she knew it, his hands were all over her while his magic tongue danced in and out of her mouth, giving her a preview of what she was to receive in the moments to follow. She wrapped her arms around the broadness of his body and held on tight.

      “Tell me what you want.” He stared into her eyes as his fingers teased the flesh of her bare arms, and every place he touched seemed to explode into a blaze. “Tell me.”

      “I…I want you.”

      GWYNNE FORSTER

      is a national bestselling author of forty-three works of fiction, thirty-four romance novels and nine mainstream novels, including her latest, When The Sun Goes Down. She has won numerous awards for fiction writing, including a Gold Pen Award, a RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award, and has been inducted in the Affaire de Coeur Hall of Fame. A demographer by profession, she was formerly a senior officer for the United Nations, where she was chief officer in charge of research in fertility and family planning studies. Gwynne is author of twenty-seven publications in demography. She holds a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in sociology and a master’s degree in economics/demography. As an officer, first for United Nations and later for the International Planned Parenthood Federation in London, England, Gwynne has traveled and/or worked in sixty-three countries. She lives in New York with her husband, who is her true soul mate.

      Passion’s Price

      Gwynne Forster

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      My sincere thanks to my son (my stepson), Peter Forster Acsadi, who is one of my models for what a man should be. He is an accomplished electronic engineer, and I save my computer and other electronic problems for his attention. A professionally serious, good-natured, witty and handsome man with a laugh that is nothing short of uplifting, he is always there for his parents. With a husband who designs and produces my brochures and answers my panic calls when my software is uncooperative, I enjoy strong family support. I AM BLESSED TO HAVE BOTH OF THEM. As always, I thank God for my talent and for the opportunities to use it.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 1

      When attorney Darlene Cunningham made up her mind, she rarely ever changed it. And that had created some problems for her and her family. As the youngest partner at Myrtle, Coppersmith & Cunningham LLP, Darlene usually got the least promising and least interesting cases assigned in the three-person law firm.

      But her job as a defense attorney meant everything to her. Even the smallest detail of the most mundane case got her professional juices flowing. Take for instance her current case. She had to force herself not to get too excited about it. There was something suspicious about her client. Something wasn’t right about the burglary case, and it was driving her crazy.

      And then a witness had come forward and volunteered to testify on her client’s behalf. It all seemed too convenient, she thought. It just didn’t add up, and Darlene was determined to find out why.

      That’s why Darlene had decided to fly down to Memphis and reinterview the witness. Though her partners didn’t think it was worthwhile for Darlene to travel all that way just to nail down the facts in the case, Darlene disagreed.

      And so here she was in Memphis, trying to locate the alibi witness, the only witness who could testify that her client, Albert Frank, was somewhere else at the time the crime took place. A very convenient witness who had very inconveniently vanished without a trace.

      Darlene landed at Memphis International Airport, exhausted after having transferred twice on the trip from Baltimore. Having refused the peanuts and pretzels offered on the plane, she was hungry and a bit on edge. She’d never been to Memphis before, and the intensity of the heat and humidity surprised her, adding to her discomfort.

      She checked into the famous Peabody Hotel—known for its duck march through the lobby—and called room service for a pulled-pork sandwich and iced tea. She unpacked while she waited for her food to arrive. After she’d eaten, Darlene once again tried to contact Frank’s alibi witness at the number she’d been given. To her disappointment, she got no answer, not even voice mail.

      With no word from her witness, she struck out the next morning to check on her client’s story about where the witness lived. She took a cab to the address he’d given her in an upscale neighborhood in a cul-de-sac bordering Memphis and Collerville. She would have expected just about any neighborhood other than the quiet, pristine homes that screamed old-money wealth and power. Less sure of herself now, she knocked on the door, since she had not seen a doorbell.

      “Come in,” a slender gray-haired man in a black suit, white shirt and black tie said with a gracious smile. “Not many people come here these days.” He spoke haltingly, and she decided that he was part of the household staff, a fair assumption given the neighborhood. “Have a seat,” the man said as he gestured toward what she discovered was an elegant living room.

      “Thank you. This heat is almost unbearable,” Darlene said to fill the awkward silence. She used a tissue to wipe her forehead.

      “Yes, it is,” the man said. “Would you care for some sweetened iced tea? I made it a few minutes ago. If you’re uncomfortable, I can turn up the air conditioner.”

      She leaned against the back of a tufted velvet chair and looked at the man. “Thank you, but I don’t care for tea, and the air-conditioning is fine. This is a beautiful house, but it must be very old. No one seems to build these kinds of houses anymore.” Small talk was something she hated, but she had to engage the man in conversation if she was to learn anything about her client.

      “Yes, it’s old, all right. My grandfather built it. But I renovated it from roof to cellar about twenty-five years ago. Sure you wouldn’t like some tea or iced coffee?”

      “No thank you. I was